


Happy New Year

by spanglecap



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Furniture Breaking Smut, Getting Together, Heated Kissing, It's Mainly Smut Though, New Years kisses, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Some Feels At The End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spanglecap/pseuds/spanglecap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha kisses Steve at midnight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy New Year

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (belated) New Year everyone! I know New Year isn't everyone's kind of holiday (didn't have a great 2014 myself to be honest) but I'm wishing you all the best for the coming year, and here's to focusing on the good things!! 
> 
> So as a gift to you here is 6500 words of awkwardness and smut, because apparently that's what I like doing right now. I wanted to post it on New Year's Eve but I didn't finish it in time. Anyway, I figure it's better late than never.
> 
> I guess you could maybe call this dub-con at one point, because even though both parties are consenting there is alcohol involved. However it does move on to be fully, explicitly consensual on both sides, because that kind of stuff is important to me, and I'm sure for many of you too.
> 
> I'll admit the first couple of sections/set-up part is a little brief, but it's taken me so long I just wanted to get it published! Ha ha :) The rest of it is my usual style of writing.
> 
> Enjoy!! :)

“3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!!”

The chorus rang out across the room, followed by an eruption of cheers.

Natasha watched as what felt like everyone in the room turned and kissed someone else. Tony and Pepper, Thor and Jane, Clint and Bobbi, hell, even Darcy, Sam and Happy had brought dates.

Apart from Steve.

Steve’s date was currently with his champagne flute, which he downed as she looked over to him. Poor guy.

Natasha had only just got back from a mission a few hours ago and so hadn’t really bothered to think about dates. New Year’s wasn’t really her holiday anyway. Really, she didn’t understand the big fuss. It was just another day, and there were three hundred and sixty four others in the year which were exactly the same.

But Steve looked decidedly awkward standing by himself, so she walked over to him. Maybe a kiss would put a spring in his step for the rest of the night.

“Well, let’s get this over with shall we?” she said as she approached, taking the glass from him and setting it down on the table next to him. He looked confused.

“What?” She sighed exasperatedly and gestured to the other couples in the room.

“Pucker up, Cap,” she said, pulling his lips down to hers.

* * *

 

Natasha didn’t know what to expect when she kissed him.

She hadn’t expected his lips to taste so sweet.

She hadn’t expected him to smell so good.

Hadn’t expected him to lean back in when she pulled away, and she certainly hadn’t expected him to pull her into his arms and kiss her deeper.

She never could have predicted that he’d moan into her mouth and that she’d gasp against his lips. That he’d be so warm, her body pressed to his. Never could have guessed the way that the rest of the room seemed to melt into nothingness as his presence invaded her senses.

A sharp, shrill sound pulled her back into the real world. She looked around, breathless, to realise that it had been Tony whistling, a grin plastered on his face as everyone in the room looked at them. The expressions ranged from shock to jubilation.

Steve practically jumped back from her, quickly wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. At least she hadn’t been the only one so caught up in the moment she hadn’t noticed people were beginning to stare. She probably looked pretty shocked herself. Steve turned back to her, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“Happy New Year,” he said quickly, before walking away briskly. The attention that had been focused on them wandered elsewhere.

But the heat remained coiled in Natasha’s body. She had been drinking a little, yes, but that wasn’t the reason for it. She closed her eyes, and imagined she could still feel his lips on hers.

She looked at Steve, on the other side of the room. Really _looked_ , for perhaps the first time and saw a man, underneath it all. Yes, he was Captain America, paragon of truth and her leader. But Steve Rogers was a man. A man who had tasted of passion and strength.

And once Natasha Romanov tasted something she liked, she had to have her fill.

* * *

 

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He’d kissed Natasha.

Not the first kiss, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he hadn’t been able to stop himself leaning back in and claiming her lips again once she'd pulled away. She’d tasted so good, and he’d secretly wanted her for so long, in that moment he didn't have the strength to let her go just yet. His desires had got the better of him and now he was going to have to figure out the mess he’d just made.

He’d had no right to kiss her like that, and when they’d broken apart she’d looked almost shocked. It was then he knew he’d made a mistake. Steve looked at her now, talking with Clint across the room, and tried to figure out what the hell he would say to her. How he would apologise.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he tried to think. God, he missed the days before the serum when he’d been able to have a drink to calm his nerves. Even if it had usually only been half a pint of something.

Thor’s thunderous laugh cut across the room, and Steve found himself with an idea. He wasn’t sure exactly what Thor was drinking, but, he reasoned, if it could intoxicate a Norse god, then it could probably work on him too.

* * *

 

Steve was having trouble keeping his eyes focused. Everything seemed to be a little blurry as he reached for glass and filled it with water, his movements too heavy and slow. Every time he'd finished one glass, Thor put another in his hands and he'd thought it rude to decline. After the eleventh drink, he’d decided he was in no condition to talk to Natasha and he’d staggered up to his rooms in the Tower a short time ago, accompanied by a rather jovial (and only slightly less drunk) Thor. The god had left him to try to sober up, though not before telling him that his ancestors would be proud, and had presumably gone to carry on drinking in his own rooms.

Downing the glass in one, Steve could feel the fog over his senses clear a little, and immediately downed another. He still felt more than a little drunk, and would no doubt have one hell of a hangover when he woke up, but at least he could see straight now. As he crossed the living area to go and sleep off the rest of the alcohol, there was a knock at his door and with a small groan he went to answer it, wishing he were in bed already.

Steve glanced at the monitor next to the door showing who was waiting for him to answer and paused, anxious. He wasn’t sure who he was expecting but it wasn’t Nat. Maybe she wanted to talk about earlier, now they didn’t have an audience, and tell him how out of line he’d been to kiss her like that without her permission.

Bracing himself, he opened the door, but as he did so there was a heat in her eyes that told him she wasn’t here for talking. He barely had time to process what was happening before she was in the apartment and pushing him up against the door, grabbing his collar and sealing his lips with hers. She broke away after only a few moments but didn’t make any signs of moving, body pressed to his.

“Hello to you too,” he said faintly, looking a little dazed. His cheeks were flushed pink, but Natasha wasn’t sure if it was from the kiss or from whatever he’d been drinking with Thor. Maybe it was both.

“Shut up, Rogers,” she breathed. He did, and leaned down to kiss her again as if he were just as hungry for her as she was for him. Natasha poured every ounce of the lust that was surging through her veins into it, relishing the groans she pulled from his throat.

“Nat wait, wait,” Steve mumbled between kisses, somehow managing to pull back through the heady daze he was in thanks to her lips and the liquor. This wasn’t right. He could taste the alcohol on her tongue. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you,” she retorted, leaning right back in. He was. He could still taste the fiery bite of the alcohol at the back of his throat. Groaning as she slid a hand up his shirt, he tried to cling onto reason and decency, but then he’d never thought such a light touch on his skin could feel so good. She nipped at his bottom lip and it sent a jolt through him, desire gnawing at his gut. He’d be lying if he said he wanted her to stop. “Stop being such a gentleman, we can lament over bad decision making later,” she continued, words heavy against his lips, but still, he held back. She seemed to sense it. “But if you really don’t want this…”

She stepped back suddenly, leaving him breathing heavily against the door, cold without her touch. Without her lips. He didn’t know much right now, alcohol still clouding his thoughts, but he did know that he had to have her body against his again, as soon as possible. He reached out and pulled her back to him.

“I want this,” he said firmly. Suddenly he didn’t care that they were both more than a little drunk. He wanted her when he was sober, so what difference did it make? As long as they both ended up naked in his bed he didn’t care. “I want _you_.”

That was all Natasha needed to hear, because even though she was a little tipsy herself, she was more than capable of making her own decisions, thank you very much. She found herself wondering about what kind of lover Steve would be as they stumbled to his bedroom. Would he be gentle, affectionate as he undressed her? Or would he be rough when he took her, all that carefully controlled strength of his rising to the surface? Would he let her set the pace, taking whatever she chose to give him or would he take control like he did in the field? She knew either way, he would probably be a generous lover. The uncertainty, the sudden intensity of it all sent a throb of pure want through her, so strong it almost hurt and she could barely wait any longer, all but ripping his shirt open to feel his skin beneath her hands.

Steve couldn’t think straight. Too consumed by the woman in his arms, he couldn’t quite tell where the tipsiness ended and the lust began, but he decided he didn’t care as she ran her hands over his chest, her touch scorching his skin. He couldn’t seem to stop kissing her, and only paused to suck in a breath sharply as her nails ghosted of the v of his hips, sending a thrill down his spine. His jeans were suddenly far too tight and he wondered vaguely why they were still wearing so many clothes.

“Let’s get this off, shall we?” he said, deftly unzipping her dress and pushing it down her body to fall to the floor before ridding himself of his shirt. She was left wearing only some rather scandalous lingerie, and Steve was torn between wanting to rip it off her and wanting to just admire her because he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life, all milky pale curves and swells of black lace.

Natasha felt the edge of his bed against her legs, and, falling back on it, Steve followed her. The bulge in his jeans pressed against her core as his hand travelled up her thigh, and Natasha was beginning to think that this was the best idea she’d ever had, heart beating wildly in her chest. His lips trailed down to her neck, feather light at first but soon his tongue was swirling over her skin and he was sucking hard enough to leave angry red marks blossoming over her collarbone. But his hands skimmed her body lightly, and the contrast of sensation was enough to make her choke back a moan. She felt just a hint of teeth, a light scrape a fraction below her ear and he-

Snored.

Natasha froze, because _surely,_ she can’t have heard what she thought she just heard.

He snored softly again.

Scrambling up to a half sitting position, Natasha pushed Steve’s weight off her – which was no mean feat considering the bulk of him – and rolled him onto his back to see his eyes closed, features serene and relaxed, chest rising and falling in steady inhalations.

Un-fucking-believable.

He’d passed out on her.

“Hopeless,” she said to herself softly, regarding him in disbelief as her heart still beat erratically. “Absolutely hopeless.”

Natasha lay back after a few moments and stared at the ceiling, suddenly feeling very clear-headed. Nothing like getting half naked with a man only to have him fall asleep when things were just heating up to shock you into sobriety.

It became apparent that Steve wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, his breathing deep and steady. She sat up, and, deciding that he should at least be comfortable, she undid the belt and fastenings of his jeans. Getting his jeans off, however, took a little more effort, and she had to stand at the foot of the bed and tug with all her might. She managed to do it though, and she threw them to one side, a little out of breath. Definitely _not_ how she imagined his jeans would come off when she’d knocked on his door earlier. She looked at him in disbelief again, completely unresponsive through it all, well and truly out for the count.

“Jarvis?” she said aloud, hands on her hips.

“Yes, Miss Romanov?” the A.I. chimed in response.

“Monitor his vitals, let me know if anything changes,” she sighed, deciding she should stick around until he woke up, if only to make sure he wasn’t in some kind of alcohol induced coma. She had no idea what the Asgardian drink would do to a human, and had no desire for it to have lasting effects.

“Certainly, ma'am,” Jarvis replied.

“Thanks, J,” she said, regarding Steve again. She stifled another sigh. He really was a pinnacle of male anatomy, the very peak of human condition. Perfectly formed like an athlete, or gymnast. An Adonis. It was a shame, really, because she’d rather been looking forward to having all six foot two of that perfection to herself. He rolled onto his side and Natasha pulled the sheets up over him.

“Might I suggest, for future reference, that the Captain steer clear of Master Odinson’s drink of choice?”

“Don’t worry, I’m never letting him near that stuff again,” she replied dryly.

“A wise decision, I feel, Miss Romanov,” Jarvis said, and Natasha thought that if the A.I. had a physical form, he’d be hiding a smile right now.

Jarvis fell into silence and Natasha cast her eyes around the room. Walking over to the chest of drawers, she rummaged around until she found a t shirt. She took her bra off and threw it over her shoulder, pulling on the shirt. It swamped her, but that didn’t matter because it would be comfortable while she slept. Getting under the sheets, she curled up next to him, looking once more at his calm features before closing her eyes.

Well. This certainly wasn’t how she pictured her night ending.

* * *

 

Steve opened his eyes slowly.

Rolling onto his back, he grimaced as the sunlight pouring in through the window burnt his retinas. He took a moment to adjust and hauled himself upright, sitting on the edge of the bed. Taking a deep breath, he tried to remember what happened last night. He definitely remembered kissing Natasha at midnight…and then not much else if he was honest. He vaguely recalled Thor’s booming laugh and could still taste alcohol in his mouth, but his memory of what actually happened was coming up blank.

Looking to the clock on the bedside table, he saw it was late morning, and that someone had left a glass of water out for him with a note next to it – _Drink this._ Evidently someone had made sure he got up to his room okay (had he really been that far gone?) and taken the time to leave out water for him when he woke. And take most of his clothes off. He shrugged. It had probably been Thor. Steve downed the glass thankfully, already feeling much more awake. His head only spun a little when he stood up, which was a good sign he supposed, because he’d been fully expecting the worst hangover in history.

Shuffling to the en suite, he used the toilet and then cleaned his teeth, because _god,_ he’d forgotten the foul taste drinking left in the mouth the morning after. Shaking off what seemed to be the last of the alcohol’s effects (he guessed he had the serum to thank for the rapidly receding hangover), he shaved, had a quick shower, towelled himself dry and threw on some boxers.

He was just rubbing his hair dry with another towel when he noticed something on the floor at the foot of his bed made him nearly choke.

A dress.

Natasha’s dress, more specifically.

Her shoes, kicked across the room, landing by the wardrobe. Her bra, draped across the arm of a chair. His clothes, strewn in a similar fashion across the floor.

Heart suddenly lodged in his throat, Steve looked up at the door leading to the living area, afraid of what he was going to find on the other side. Had they slept together? Was she still here? She hadn’t been there when he’d woken up, but surely if she had left she would have taken her clothes with her?

Steeling himself, he opened the door, and sure enough, there was Nat, perched atop one of the stools at the breakfast bar. She seemed to be reading something on a tablet, a piece of toast in one hand and wearing one of his t shirts. Judging from her bare legs, she wasn’t wearing much underneath it either.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” she said, taking a bite of toast. He found himself rooted to the spot. She looked up at him. “I thought seventy years would have been enough rest for you but I guess you do need your sleep in your old age.”

Natasha had to hide a smile at the look on his face. Really, it was almost worth him passing out on her just to see his expression of pure shock and confusion. It took him a few moments but then he seemed to collect himself.

“Nat, did we…” he started, taking a step towards her. He gestured somewhat vaguely to the bedroom behind him. “I mean did we…have-”

“-Have sex?” He nodded, looking a little pale. She looked his mostly naked form up and down deliberately slower than she needed to, with just the right amount of heat in her eyes, if only to watch him squirm, because he deserved it after passing out on her. His hands settled awkwardly on his hips and she saw his posture tense up, as if he was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was wearing boxers and nothing else.

“No,” she said, after a pause, deciding he’d had enough tormenting. For now. Relief floods his features and his shoulders relax.

“Thank god,” he exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. She narrowed her eyes at him as an unexpected stab of hurt went through her chest at the thought that he apparently found the idea of sleeping with her so repulsive.

“You don’t have to sound so relieved, you know,” she snapped back bitterly, alarmed at how much it hurt. She stood to leave, and he looked up at her sharply, concern filling his eyes. She moved towards the door but suddenly he was in her way, blocking her path.

“What? No, Nat, that’s not-”

“-Thought I should at least stick around long enough to make sure you weren’t in some kind of coma but if that’s how you feel then I‘ll just leave now and save us both the embarrassment.”

“Nat-”

“-You don’t have to explain yourselmmphmpff!”

Her words were cut off by Steve’s lips, sealing themselves against hers impatiently. He kissed her hard, deep, and _god,_ it felt like she was drowning, because everything was so much _more_ without the alcohol numbing her senses and all she could do was cling to his shoulders as need pulsed through her. Her eyelids fluttered shut as her head spun and heat rolled off him, consuming her. He broke away slowly, breathing unsteady, cupping her face with those large hands of his.

“Let me get a word in, will you?” he murmured. She nodded dumbly, because he seemed to have robbed her of her ability to form sentences. He took a step back so he could look at her properly, hands falling to her shoulders.

“I’m not relieved we didn’t sleep together, I’m relieved because the last thing I want is to wait so long to get the chance to be with you and then not even wake up remembering it.”

Natasha knew it was foolish, but her stomach fluttered his confession. It was…unexpectedly… _nice_ to know that he wanted her outside of whatever drunken state they were in last night. That it wasn’t just some alcohol-induced infatuation.

“You still want me?” she asked, looking up at him. She still wanted him as well, if she were honest with herself. The thought didn’t disturb her as much as she thought it would. Maybe, deep down, she’d wanted him for a long time too, even if she hadn’t realised it before this moment. He nodded earnestly, and Natasha’s chest felt tight.

“If you’ll have me,” he said, giving her that goofy half smile of his, but she could see the hesitation in his eyes. As if he were bracing himself for rejection. Suddenly she knew it wasn’t just about lust. Not for him. Maybe not for her either. She took a deep breath. Fuck it. She’d figure that part out later.

“ _Touch_ me dammit, and try to enjoy it enough to stay conscious this time,” Natasha said exasperatedly, grabbing his hand and placing it on her body impatiently, suddenly needing his touch even more than she had last night. She reached up and tried to pull him down to kiss her, but he held back as her words sank in.

“What?” he asked, suddenly very pale as the blood ran from his face. She huffed out a breath. Surely this could wait until later, when they were both sweaty and spent, like they should have been last night?

“You passed out on me. Do it again and next time I won’t stick around until morning,” she said impatiently, peppering kisses all over his jaw and neck, because she couldn’t quite reach his lips without him leaning down, even on her tiptoes.

“I passed out on you?” Steve echoed faintly, staring blankly at the wall behind her. Not even the feel of Natasha’s lips on his skin could jolt him back to reality. How could he have possibly done something so incredibly embarrassing? _God_ , he’d finally gotten Natasha Romanov into his bed and all he’d done was fall asleep. He groaned in anguish, head falling back and covering his eyes with one hand, wishing the ground would just swallow him whole.

Natasha nipped at his skin and he looked down at her. She wound her arms around his neck as she looked right back up at him, waiting for him to get over whatever internal crisis he was having. God, she was so beautiful.But she was still here, and that had to count for something, right? She hadn’t left, she’d waited, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make it up to her. He’d do everything he should have done last night, and more, because it was no less than she deserved.

“I’ve got some making up to do, haven’t I?” he said sheepishly, eyes apologetic. He brushed some hair back from her face.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had a man fall asleep on me during foreplay, so yes, yes you have,” she said, watching the way he grimaced again at the reminder.

“Next time we see Thor drinking, remind me not to join him?” he sighed, deciding that he never wanted to get drunk again.

“Deal,” she said. “Now kiss me.”

Steve didn’t need telling twice. Dipping his head down, his heart thrummed at the way she sighed into his mouth, at the way her arms tightened around his neck, drawing him closer. He slipped a hand under the t shirt she was wearing, groaning at the feel of her soft curves under his fingers.

 “How far did we get?” he asked, pulling away a fraction.

“About this far,” she replied dryly, pulling the neck of the t shirt to one side to reveal the angry red marks on her skin which he didn’t remember leaving.

“Well,” he murmured, fingers hovering over the marks. “Let me pick up where I left off.”

The small noise of surprise that escaped Natasha as he abruptly hoisted her up onto the counter was muffled by his lips, fierce and demanding against her own. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she pulled him closer, enjoying the way the muscles in his jaw moved under her fingers as she reached up to cup his face.

Steve fought back a groan as he tasted her again, as she pressed herself to him, only a thin layer of cloth between their bodies. He moved to kiss her neck like he apparently had last night and he wondered how he could have possibly forgotten what it felt like because it set his blood on fire like nothing he’d ever felt. He pulled the neck of the t shirt aside but quickly decided that it would be better to just take it off.

Steve pulled the shirt up over her head and tossed it to one side, hands back on Natasha’s body in seconds. Heat spread through her at the look in his eyes as her body was revealed to him.

She was left bare, once the t shirt was gone, save for some very small lace panties. There was something like reverence in his eyes, but also a heat she’d never seen before, not even last night. His lips descended to her skin again, to her neck, her breasts, stomach, hips, sucking, biting, both light and hard like he couldn’t get enough, and it made her head swim as she leaned back and propped herself up on her elbows. She was glad when he didn’t try to kiss her scars, because they both knew she didn’t need him to.

Her breath hitched as his fingers brushed the inside of her thighs, tracing the edge of the lace. She squirmed impatiently, and he seemed to get the message, pressing his thumb right against her clit. Even through the thin lace it sent a thrill of pleasure through her, but she wanted more. He slid the fabric aside, a groan escaping him as he felt her already slick folds.

“Really, Steve, in the kitchen? How modern of you,” she teased breathlessly. She’d thought he would take her back to bed but evidently he didn’t want to wait that long as he sank a finger inside her and pulled her closer. Natasha choked out a moan, grasping at his shoulders.

“This okay?” he murmured against her neck, rubbing in small circles inside her. She didn’t really think it was a question of experience – he seemed to know what he was doing – but more of preference, which she appreciated.

“Yes,” she gasped out, needing more but not really sure how to ask. She was practically clawing at his skin before he slipped another finger inside her, like he wanted to draw it out for as long as possible. Well, Natasha had done enough waiting last night, and he choked out a moan as Natasha pushed his boxers down his hips and took him into her hand. She bit her lip, the tip of him leaking arousal onto her fingers as the lightest scrape of teeth on her neck sent shivers down her spine. He was so hard and thick and _ready_ , and she couldn’t wait a minute more.

“I need you inside me,” Natasha breathed, voice broken, and Steve’s chest tightened. “Preferably in the next thirty seconds.”

Steve had wanted to do so much more before they got to this part. Wanted to kiss her all over and taste every inch of her flesh. Wanted to make her come with his tongue. Wanted to hear her cry his name out in pleasure and then do it all over again, maybe in bed next time. But he could hardly think straight, hardly hold onto reason because she was gasping in his ear how much she needed him, gripping him tight. And really, who was he to deny her?

Steve stepped back a little, and Natasha lifted her hips so he could pull her panties down her legs. His hand trailed down her thigh to her calf and ankle, and he moved as if to go back to the bedroom but Natasha pulled him back.

“Don’t bother getting a condom,” she said, assuming that was the only possible reason he would leave her for even a second right now. He nodded, and quickly returned to stand between her thighs. She moved to sit right on the edge of the counter, because really it was the perfect height for this, and leant back. The tip of him rubbed against her clit, and she could have sworn she saw stars just from that alone.

 “Ready?” he asked, voice thick and gruff, sounding wrecked before they’d even started. She bit her lip as a throb of desire goes through her, because she’d always liked his voice but this was something else entirely.

“I’ve been ready since last night, Rogers,” she said impatiently, and the corner of his mouth quirks up at that.

Natasha sucked in a sharp breath as Steve hilted himself inside her, and he froze, afraid he’d hurt her, because he wasn’t exactly a small guy.

“Okay?” he asked, forcing himself to stay still even though it took every ounce of his strength. _God,_ she was so _tight._ So warm and slick.

She breathed something in Russian, half a moan, half a gasp. He started to pull out a fraction, worried she was in discomfort, but she wrapped her legs around his hips like a vice and pulled him right back in. Unprepared, Steve bit back a moan at the pleasure of it, at the feel of sinking back into her. She reached for him, but lying back on the counter, could only just about grasp his arms.

Natasha could hardly breathe as Steve leant down and kissed her, the feeling of his lips on hers and the way he felt inside her almost too much. It was heaven, how full she felt. How his hands skimmed her skin. She moaned into his mouth as he started to push in and out of her, slow, but hard at the same time, as if he couldn’t get deep enough. He shifted and took one of her nipples into his mouth again, and she writhed beneath him but he used that strength of his to pin her down. Natasha didn’t think she’d ever been so turned on in her life, and suddenly she was grateful that all the apartments in the Tower were soundproofed, because she didn’t think she’d ever been so loud either, gasping and moaning as he fucked her harder, faster as she cried for more. He straightened up and grasped her hips, pulling her body down to meet his with every thrust and it was unlike anything Natasha had ever felt.

Steve could feel himself already becoming addicted to the way she felt around him, to the sound of her moans. Already lost to how beautiful she looked, green eyes glazed with pleasure and biting her lip as he thrust into her, hard and quick. She pushed herself up to kiss him hungrily, and, following a sudden urge, he gathered her up into his arms. Still inside her, she cursed under her breath when he pushed her up against a wall. He couldn’t seem to stop kissing her, hooked on the way she tasted. Holding her up with one arm, he braced the other against the flat of the wall, needing something to outlet his strength into that wasn’t flesh.

Natasha moaned at the way Steve’s hips ground against her clit every time he thrust back into her, at the way he swallowed her gasps of pleasure like they were the air he breathed. She didn’t always come like this, through just penetrative sex, but if he kept up what he was doing with his hips then she’d be on the edge in no time at all. She was pretty sure she’d have bruises on the small of her back thanks to the force of his thrusts and the wall behind her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, not when she could see him slowly losing control. She hardly even noticed when the wall creaked and cracked under the pressure of Steve’s hand because suddenly she was dangerously close to coming and a few thrusts later pleasure flooded through her, overwhelming and consuming and almost unbearably intense.

Natasha having an orgasm was the most incredible thing Steve had ever seen. She cried out – and he didn’t know if he imagined it but he could have sworn he saw an actual tear roll down her cheek – nails digging into his back and neck as she clung to him, shaking and gasping, and all he could do was follow her over the edge to oblivion as her insides fluttered around him.

It took Steve a good half minute to recover enough strength to lift his head off Natasha’s shoulder. Her arms hung limply around his neck and her head rested against the wall as her breathing slowed to a normal rate. Her legs were still loosely locked around his waist but he had no doubt that the only thing keeping her up was the fact that he was still supporting her. He felt a little guilty when he saw the palm-sized crater he’d left in the wall next to her head, but was glad it was only some plaster and that he’d had the sense to try and outlet the strength somewhere. He could replace plaster. He couldn’t replace her.

“That was...intense,” Natasha panted, sounding a little surprised and pulling him from his thoughts.

Natasha didn’t know what she’d been expecting from Steve but it certainly wasn’t… _that._

“Did it make up for passing out on you?”

“You’ve got a lot more making up to do before I forgive that, Sleeping Beauty,” she teased, a smile on her lips. Steve’s chest swelled.

“I can live with that,” he replied happily, nuzzling her neck and trailing his lips over her skin. He supposed he should let her down from the wall. “If I put you down will you be able to stand up?”

“Getting tired? And here I thought you had super stamina.”

Steve rolled his eyes, made a move to pull out of her but she made a small noise of protest, so he ended up carrying her over to the sofa still inside her. He sat down, Natasha on his lap and was quite content to leave light kisses all over her skin while she came down from her high, her curves under his hands. She arched into his touch, and something came to her attention. That he was, to put it delicately, still ‘standing’ to attention.

“You’re still hard,” she said, eyes questioning. “Did you not come?”

“When you were complaining about my stamina just now,” he started, fingers trailing over the marks he’d left on her neck. “You’ll find it’s not a problem.”

His refractory period had vanished along with his illnesses when he’d got the serum. She rolled her hips slightly, as if to test him, and instantly his grip on her tightened as his breath caught in his throat. She smiled, a devilish gleam in her eyes.

“Interesting.”

That was all she said before she was rolling her hips against his, almost torturously slow. Steve lost the ability to think as her hands glided up his chest and she leant down to kiss him, deep and unhurried. She picked up the pace slightly, but it was different this time. It didn’t have the same sense of urgency as before, but it was no less searing as she rode him, small whimpers escaping her as she found a rhythm that had them both gasping for breath. Steve’s head fell back against the sofa, jaw slack, and she took the opportunity to leave her own set of marks on his skin, breath hot on his neck as he held onto her. Waiting for her was the most difficult thing he’d ever done, but he didn’t let himself finish until she was gasping out strings of broken Russian and trembling in his arms.

“Do you always break something when you come?” Natasha asked breathlessly after a moment, looking across to see the now torn leather of the sofa next to them. She melted against his chest, limbs weak. He was still hard even though she’d felt him come with her this time. Yes. Very interesting, she decided.

“Apparently when I’m with you I do,” Steve panted, heart still pounding in his chest. It was either break some walls and sofas or break her, and he knew which one he’d prefer.

“Maybe we should take a break,” she suggested. “Save some of your furniture.”

He laughed, and Natasha’s chest ached at the sight of him, cheeks still flushed pink and a light sheen of sweat on his skin. She could still feel his heart beating wildly in his chest and she traced the line of his jaw and throat with her fingertips. Perfection.

“I’d happily break all the furniture I own if it meant you were the one making me break it,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she said sarcastically, and he lets out a short laugh. They don’t speak again for a moment and he sobers.

“Jokes aside though,” he said softly, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Will you stay with me?

Natasha hesitates. Last night, in her slightly drunken state, she wouldn’t have thought twice about leaving him. In fact, she’d planned to, after she’d gotten what she wanted from him. Funny how the thought of doing so was inconceivable to her now.

Something was different now. Something had changed, and she wasn’t sure what.

“Steve...” she starts, and she felt him tense, awaiting her answer. Suddenly she didn’t know what to say. She brought herself up off his chest to look at him, and one of his hands cupped the side of her face as he pushed some of her hair back. There was something in his eyes that gave her strength. Something like adoration. Her chest swelled at the thought of someone like him wanting her. She found herself wanting him to look at her like this all the time. The corner of her mouth quirked up slightly.

Whatever this was, or would turn out to be, she’d deal with it one day at a time. For now.

He deserved at least that.

“I guess you still have a lot of making up to do.”

Steve grinned, and kissed her so lovingly it made her ache.

He took her to the bedroom, threw her thighs over his shoulders and made it up to her three more times. Once she'd recovered enough to move, she worked her way down his body and wondered what he would break next.

As it turned out, a large part of the headboard shattered into pieces after what can only be described as the most intense, excruciating blow job of Steve’s life.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I have this headcanon that Natasha starts calling Steve “Sleeping Beauty” but whenever anyone asks why she never tells them and Steve just smiles to himself, and it just becomes the most infuriating part of Tony’s life trying to figure out why.
> 
> I usually use present tense in my writing but I used past tense on this, still deciding if I like it or not. (I kept switching between tenses while writing so had to furiously edit, apologies if I missed anything)  
> What about you? Do you have a preference of past/present tense while reading?
> 
> Shout out to the person on tumblr who prompted Steve getting drunk and passing out, it was kind of fun to torture him like that.
> 
> Also, I'm still doing that longer story I mentioned when writing Close, but I kept getting distracted by all the holiday one shots. Hoping to get back to it soon so I can publish.
> 
> Comments/kudos always welcome! :)


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